


Barmecidal

by Sjukdom



Series: Fifty Something, Well-Aged Wine [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah ran his finger down Jim’s cheek, neck, chest, belly. In his dream-like state he could only jerk when another new part of his body was rediscovered by Elijah. The part of Jim’s brain felt sorry that he couldn’t remember clearly this moment because of the haze, this moment when Elijah touched him for real for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barmecidal

The fire filled the small room with heat and smell of burning wood, the scent of bark and dry leaves turning into ashes. All windows were closed and no gust of cold wind came through to stop Jim’s head from spinning and his chest from heaving. There were roses, too. They stood in the middle of the table, where Elijah and Oswald talked excitedly, while waiting for the meal to be served. Their smell had the same ashy notes as if they were brought here from the place that had been burned down. The air trembled from the heat and sometimes Jim thought he could see smoke coming up from crimson petals. As crimson as the wine he was about to fill the glasses with. He held the bottle with both hands, not sure if he could deliver it safely in his state of dizziness. The wine, the liquid rose petals, the flicker of flame crawling under Jim’s skin. Soon he would be afire, too.

From his point of view he could see Oswald picking up at his bread like a baby bird, putting small crumbs inside his mouth. The golden embroidery on his clothes shone in the light of the fire as if he was dressed in flames themselves. Not an ordinary baby bird, no. A little phoenix, gathering might and strength, ready to spread his blazing wings.

Elijah sat with his back at Jim, wearing the dark red blazer, the same color as the stone in the ring he had on his finger. He was obviously getting impatient and drummed his index finger lightly on the table, making soft sounds that resembled the rhythm of Jim's heavy breathing. The ring didn’t shimmer. It seemed to catch lights and suck them deeply into the stone, leaving its matte surface undisturbed. The red stone, the crystallized wine, the other side of the fire. Jim felt like he was trapped in this ring, too. The bottle threatened to slip out from his wet hands. He saw his sweaty fingerprints on the glass and tried to wipe them away.

Elijah turned his head, when Jim finally entered the room. He still had the smile on his soft lips, but it was addressed to his son. For Jim he had raised eyebrows and disapproval in his eyes.

“What did take you so long, James? I've started to think that we will have only water tonight.”

“I’m so sorry”, said Jim with a lisp. The room was swaying in front of his eyes, the golden embroidery was blinding, the red blazer seemed to be sewn from precious flowers, put together by their own thorns. Jim had touched Elijah’s blazer before and knew the feeling of its rough fabric. Tiny rose thorns under his palm. And the warmth of the body that seemed hotter than the wildest fires.

Elijah reached out and took Jim by his hand to help him to stand still. His fingers wrapped themselves around Jim’s wrist, right above the veins visible under his skin. His pulse was beating against Elijah’s hand like wings of a butterfly caught in a fist. Jim couldn’t say whether it helped him or made his dizziness worse. The heat finally reached the deepest parts of his body and grew hotter with each breath he made.

“Should I give you some water?” asked Oswald, bored with all the delays. Elijah tightened his fingers around Jim’s wrist and looked at him questioningly. Jim shook his head and thanked him. The water was useless. The heat was not coming from the fire as he knew now. One of the roses dropped its petal right near Elijah’s hand, where the ring was, the tiny red void. Elijah’s fingers touching Jim’s hand felt more lustful than any intercourse.

“Just say it aloud, if you need something or feel unwell”, told him Elijah before finally letting him go. Jim put the bottle on the table and opened it, breathing in the scent involuntarily. Bittersweet, like flowers, ashes and dust of a fire’s victims mixed together.

He managed to fill Oswald’s glass despite the weakness in his hands, but poured too much. Oswald sniffed, bent himself and dipped his lips into the wine, sucking in the huge amount of it. When he straightened himself, a dark drops were rolling down his chin. Jim took the napkin to wipe them off, but Oswald shook his head and pointed at Jim’s mouth. Jim lowered himself so his face was at the level with Oswald’s and caught one of the drops with his lips. The scorching sweet taste exploded upon his tongue, intoxicating his heated body at once. The other drop had rolled down Oswald’s neck, leaving a long red trail on his skin. Jim stopped its roll and licked away the trail, sliding his tongue all the way to the corner of Oswald’s mouth. He didn’t close his eyes. The look he thanked Jim for his help with was as promising as the light that seems nice and bright but going to burn you badly.

When Jim stood back he saw Elijah looking at them both delightfully, hands clasped together under his chin. Oswald toasted him with his glass of wine and Elijah sighed. 

“I’m still waiting for it, I’m afraid. I t would be rude to distract you from your little game.” 

Jim hurried to him and started to fill his glass, standing right next to him. Elijah watched Jim doing it, rubbing his finger lightly on his bottom lip. Jim was so concerned with pouring the right amount of wine, aroused by the flare he saw in Oswald’s eyes and so willing to catch every little moment when Elijah’s fingertip touched the smooth pink skin of his lips that didn’t watch out for his still trembling hands. The bottle swayed in them a little and a rich portion of priceless liquid splashed itself over Elijah’s palm. Jim froze, watching the wine devouring the white tablecloth and turning it into the field of thousand roses. Elijah raised his hand a little and tiny drops rained from them, growing new bloody flowers all over the white. Jim managed to put the bottle down before he could cause even more mess. 

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered, looking for another napkin desperately. “Terribly sorry. I -” 

“Don’t be so anxious, James”, said Elijah, looking at his hand from all angles as if such thing happened to him for the very first time. “What are looking for?” 

“A napkin -” 

“Why, I’ve seen you helping Oswald to get clean without it”, Elijah glanced at Jim with genuine curiosity. Oswald gulped his wine noisily and stared at them, shifting his gaze from his father to Jim. With both of them contemplating him in this moment he felt the fire burning holes in his flesh from the inside. Soon there would be only a pile of ashes and a lock of scorched blonde hair at Elijah’s feet, if he wouldn’t bless letting it out. The sparkle Jim’s meeting with Elijah flared now grew into the raging flame, fed by his relaxed tease. He didn’t know how to ask for it. Did he just get a sign that finally the blessing was on its way? 

Hastily, afraid that Elijah would change his mind Jim knelt before him and took his palm, wet and sticky from the wine. It turned the skin the decadent kind of pale red, the color of roses that had been left under heavy rain for too long. The ring with its deep crimson shade presented a rich contrast to it. Tiny streams of wine glistened on the stone, making it look like a precious dead heart that still has some blood in its vessels. Jim started with it, preferring to try his skills on the cold stone and metal before touching the living body. He sucked the wine from the stone, taking it into his mouth, then worked around it with his tongue, trying to clean the pale skin under the ring. 

The slurping noises he made blocked out all other sounds for him. Jim tried to spot the differences in Elijah’s breathing or maybe hear him sighing with pleasure, but he was as calm as ever, gazing upon Jim’s lowered head with this sweet smile of his. Jim finished with the ring and began to lick away the wine from the back of Elijah’s palm, following the thin lines of his fine veins with the tip of his tongue. When he switched to his fingers, putting each into his mouth and sucking it lightly he felt that something changed in Elijah’s posture. Jim opened his eyes to look at him from his kneeling position and saw Elijah turning his surprised face to his son. 

“He’s always doing it like that?” 

“What, sucking?” asked Oswald in amused voice. “I guess so.” 

“And you are satisfied with it?” Elijah sounded astonished. “That’s not nice. He must improve his skills.” 

“Teach him”, giggled Oswald mockingly. Jim was working on Elijah’s middle finger at that moment and nearly choked hearing this. He couldn’t imagine, what Oswald meant by it, but if it allowed him closer to Elijah at last he was ready for everything. 

Jim sucked on the finger harder, rougher, imagining Elijah’s cock instead of it, with foreskin so soft and glistening with drops of pre-cum, with veins so thick they threatened to rip through the skin, colored bright with the blood filling the cock. The blood, the same color as roses, the same temperature as fire. He would try everything he already knew to impress Elijah and make him come. His head wad still spinning and when Jim gathered the last drops of wine from Elijah’s fingers, bitter and sweet at the same time, warmed up by his body, he couldn’t help imagining Elijah’s semen on his tongue. The dream of him actually able to pleasure the older man made Jim moan around his thumb. 

Elijah laughed lightly at hearing this and took his still wet, but at last clean hand away. The illusion stayed and Jim half-opened his mouth dreamily, seeing nearly nothing around him, feeling nothing but the taste of wine and skin, not even his own erection. He hardly noticed Elijah’s hand touching his face. 

“Thank you so much for your help, James”, Elijah ran his finger down Jim’s cheek, neck, chest, belly. In his dream-like state he could only jerk when another new part of his body was rediscovered by Elijah. Oswald was saying something, but it sounded hardly audible. The part of Jim’s brain felt sorry that he couldn’t remember clearly this moment because of the haze, this moment when Elijah touched him for real for the first time, his face, his cock, bulging clearly under the fabric of his pants. 

His fingers touched Jim’s hard flesh as lightly as the drop touches the skin, as the petal falls to the ground, as the shadow from the flame is cast over the wall. But it was an actual touch, fingers sliding along, rubbing and caressing him through his pants. Elijah turned his palm and pressed his ring to the head of Jim’s cock, circling the stone around it with lazy movements. Jim didn’t even notice the orgasm coming and emptying him, because it was just another sparkle in the firefall inside him. He just felt his mind clearing out a little, sounds returning, cold sweat chilling his hot skin, the taste he imagined to be Elijah’s semen being washed away into his throat with his saliva. 

“How do you do it, I’ve never managed to make him come that hard”, said Oswald with mocking jealousy. Elijah just shrugged and smiled a bit shyly, doing it so naturally there was no reason not to believe him. Except Jim’s own semen, drying out on his underpants. 

He heard Oswald’s happy laughter and suddenly there came the rain, red as blood, the rain of rose petals, the real petals, ripped from the flowers on the table. They fell on Jim’s head, shoulders, stuck in his hair like a garland. Oswald threw more at him and sipped his wine. 

“Congratulations! Will there be a meal, at last? I’m freezing.” 

Jim looked at the fire to find only coals and grey ash. He didn’t feel it going out. His own was still burning, turning his skin into melting wax. The petals covering him should have been black already.

“We’ll continue, I promise”, said Elijah soothingly. “After we will have our meal. Go fetch it now.” 

He lowered his head and left a kiss on Jim’s wet forehead, right under one of the petals. Blessing him. Sealing him. For now he was everything. The deed and the promise.

The fire and the roses. 

The liquid he spilled and the hardness to come.


End file.
